


Love Me Mercilessly

by pythagorean_identity



Series: Py's Royblee Collection [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pythagorean_identity/pseuds/pythagorean_identity
Summary: In which Roy regrets a few decisions, but not all, that lead to him following Kimblee out of camp.





	Love Me Mercilessly

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't get this one beta'd, I'll live and die by whatever mistakes I've made.  
> NaNoWriMo took a lot out of me, but not this haha. I don't know what to say my dudes, it's what's on the tin.

Roy knows, he knows he shouldn’t risk messing around with Kimblee, but here he is. Kimblee runs a death-marked hand in the ghost of a touch on Roy’s arm, and Roy shivers, even though the day is still warm. The sun’s only setting. 

Roy’s sacrificing an evening of drinking and cards and the joking of Maes and the quiet presence of Riza for this. Even now it seems like a bad idea. He should go back, say he changed his mind. To Kimblee. To Maes and Riza and the rest. 

But he can’t. He’s already walking through the ruined town, watchful for friend and foe alike. If he turned back now… he’d have to explain to everyone what he had been doing out here. And everyone knew how he hated the battlefield. He didn’t have an excuse, and if he continued to follow Kimblee he’d be back after everyone he knew was asleep.  
Up ahead, Kimblee paused, and pushed the door open to a house with an intact first floor. The entire second floor was gone. Roy knew it wasn’t his work, but other that, he wasn’t sure who had been the cause of such destruction. The house had been hastily abandoned, belongings strewn about the floor. Roy felt a sick twist in the pit of his stomach, but it was close enough to the flutter of arousal that he wrote it off. 

Kimblee went around the first floor, pulling the curtains shut as Roy stood in the living room and took the house in. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one large room, and the stairs lead up to the missing second floor, opening into nothingness. There was a woven rug on the floor, and papers, clothing, and other items were strewn about the floor. The room dimmed as the sun set and Kimblee curtained the windows. One of the chairs was knocked over, and the cabinets in the kitchen hung open, dried seeds and fruit exploded over the counters and floor. There was rubble and plaster dust on the stairs. The other alchemist returned to Roy, shedding his jacket. 

“Last chance to back out,” Kimblee warned with a sparkle in his eye that spoke otherwise. That moment had passed when the two were setting out from the base camp.  
Roy swallowed his doubts, and closed the space between them himself, sliding his fingers into Kimblee’s hair as he kissed the other alchemist. The dark locks were slightly damp, and still warm from the merciless sun, but clean. He’d showered after returning from out killing on the battlefield. Kimblee made a soft noise of approval into Roy’s mouth, and Roy worked his fingers back, undoing the tie in Kimblee’s hair, freeing it to spill, dark, across his shoulders and back. 

Roy continued to stroke at Kimblee’s hair as they broke apart, and Kimblee began to mouth at Roy’s neck and unbutton his jacket. Roy could feel the teasing hint of teeth as he did, and he shivered, running his hands down to the end of Kimblee’s long silky hair. He removed his hands, however, when Kimblee began to tug Roy’s coat off, and then his shirt, his dangerous fingers fumbling as he hurried to undo the buttons of the shirt. When he finally managed to free the last button, Kimblee straightened to kiss Roy again as he pushed the shirt off, then ran his hands over Roy’s bare chest. 

Roy stilled under the touch of Kimblee’s hands, fully aware of how dangerous his touch was, but his palms were warm and smooth, and quickly found a place gripping just above Roys hips as Kimblee nipped at Roy’s bottom lip. Roy carded his fingers in Kimblee’s hair and tried to bite back, doing his best to forget that the hands at his waist could just as easily kill him if Kimblee’s mood changed. 

But that was the point, wasn’t it?

Kimblee shoved Roy back harshly, and Roy took the chance to catch his breath. This was what he’d been waiting for, not that he hadn’t enjoyed the kissing. He didn’t walk out into the desert just because Kimblee was a shockingly good kisser. 

The other alchemist grabbed Roy’s wrists, pulling his hands up to look them over. Kimblee ran his fingers along the lines of Roy’s hands, watching as intently as a fortune teller, before looking up.

“Where are your gloves, Mustang?” Kimblee asked, his eyes gleaming.

“My gloves?” Roy asked. “Why?”

Kimblee had always had an interest in Roy’s gloves.

“Don’t tell me you were a fool enough to walk out into a warzone without a weapon. Where are they?” Kimblee asked, tightening his grip on Roy’s wrists.

“My pocket,” Roy said, and Kimblee released him.

“Put them on,” Kimblee instructed, and once Roy complied, Kimblee grabbed his wrists again, and half forced Roy down to his knees. Roy was far too compliant for it to be really called “forced”. Roy was reaching for Kimblee’s belt, but Kimblee slapped Roy’s hands away. Confused, Roy watched as Kimblee knelt down across from him, knees almost brushing Roy’s, and held out his own hands for Roy to examine, letting the other alchemist get a good look at the tattooed transmutation circles.

Carefully, Roy reached out and brought one of Kimblee’s hands to his mouth, and kissed at the base of his thumb. Kimblee turned his hand slightly, holding the deadly transmutation circle right in Roy’s face. Nervously, Roy licked his lips, and then kissed right at the center of the circle, the center of Kimblee’s palm. 

Kimblee raised his other hand, and quirked an eyebrow at Roy.

Neither of them deserved the gentleness, but Roy kissed the center of the transmutation circle on Kimblee’s other hand. 

Satisfied, Kimblee stood in a fluid movement, grabbing Roy by the bicep and hauling him back up to his feet-

-and yanked Roy’s arms up above his head, and secured them there with a rope, pulling it until Roy had to nearly stand on tiptoe. At the very least, by the time he left, his shoulders would be aching for the next few days. A small price to pay for all the death he’d caused.

But he knew it would be more than his shoulders, and it made heavy anticipation coil in Roy’s stomach. Kimblee had stepped out of sight to secure the rope, and Roy waited nervously until the other alchemist reached around from behind to undo Roy’s belt, and pull down his pants. Roy hurriedly kicked off his boots and stepped out of his pants. The floor was warm and mostly smooth under his feet. He wasn’t standing on the rug. Even through his socks, Roy could feel the grit of the few sand grains on the floor of the house. There was no escaping it. And without the slight extra height from his boots, Roy did have to stand slightly on tiptoe in order to relieve the ache in his shoulders.

Kimblee’s hands dragged up Roy’s stomach and chest, as he hugged Roy close. Roy could feel Kimblee’s growing arousal, and his breath, hot against the back of Roy’s neck. Kimblee kissed Roy at the base of his neck, his slightly chapped lips brushing across vertibe. He couldn’t help but shiver when Kimblee licked along his spine. Something especially bad was coming if Kimblee was spending this much time being… romantic.

Kimblee’s hands slid back down to Roy’s hips, and he could feel the brush of Kimblee’s hair against his own back and shoulders as Kimblee rested his forehead against the back of Roy’s neck. Kimblee’s fingers slipped teasingly just below the waistband of Roy’s underwear, pushing them down a fraction. It took more self control that Roy thought it would not to squirm at the touch, to let Kimblee’s hands push the garment down further.

Roy felt the soft exhale of amusement against his back, as if Kimblee could tell how much Roy was struggling. Kimblee withdrew, first his hands, and then he lifted his head and stepped away. 

He heard the soft clink of Kimblee retrieving Roy’s discarded belt, and then the leather was stinging across his back. Roy bit back a cry, and he lurched forward. He didn’t usually stand for this. Usually Kimblee had him kneeling, or on his hands and knees. 

Again and again Kimblee struck him, until Roy’s legs were trembling, and his vision was blurry. The entire back of his body stung, but Roy wouldn’t let himself do much more than gasp every time Kimblee hit him. At least this time he didn’t have to count. He’d tried to keep track in his head, but eventually lost count. 

The next touch was Kimblee’s hand and not the belt, his warm palm running over the raw skin of Roy’s back, sliding low before giving a playful smack to Roy’s ass. 

“Please, no,” Roy gasped. He didn’t think he had it in him tonight. “No-not if I’m going to stand.”

If Kimblee spanked him on top of the whipping he’d received from the belt, Roy’s legs would give out and he was sure he’d actually injure his shoulders and arms.

“How about something else, then?” Kimblee said, stepping back into view. 

His pale face was flushed, and Roy could see his erection straining at the front of his pants. Roy stared pointedly at it, and bit at his lip, too proud to say what he wanted, but hoping Kimblee would get the idea.

Roy’s attention was so diverted he didn’t notice what Kimblee had in his hand until the flat of the blade was pressed against his chest, the metal cool. 

“Is this acceptable?” Kimblee asked, lifting the kife, and drawing the unsharpened side against Roy’s neck, the other side, the sharp side dangerously close to Roy’s arm. Roy shivered.

“Yes,” Roy said, his heart racing. 

Kimblee pulled the knife away, and pressing a thumb gently against the knife to test how sharp it was, how hard he’d have to press to actually cut Roy. Roy shivered with sick delight at the thought.

“It’s clean, but not too sharp,” Kimblee assured, then ran the tip of knife down Roy’s stomach, which tickled more than anything else, but still made his heart skip a beat, and his breath catch.

Kimblee drew the unsharpened edge first across Roy’s triceps, and then his throat. His heart beat loud and fast in his ears. The other alchemist didn’t need the knife to kill him, but the cool kiss of metal against his adam’s apple, even if it wasn’t even sharpened, felt like a threat. A promise. 

And it sent a thrill through Roy like nothing had in a long while. 

With the point of the knife, Kimblee tipped Roy’s head up to kiss him again, but it was a fiercer kiss, his tongue briefly exploring Roy’s mouth, before biting at Roy’s bottom lip, his teeth almost as sharp at the knife under Roy’s chin. Kimblee’s free hand finally reached down to push down Roy’s underwear, then snaked around his lower back to pull Roy close. 

Roy wished his hands were free so he could pull off Kimblee’s rough uniform pants, and take them both in hand and…

Kimblee pulled away, and Roy bit back a groan. He trailed a hand at Roy’s side as he went to stand behind Roy again. The cool metal of the knife brushed against Roy’s inner thigh, and Roy got the message, spreading his legs further apart. Kimblee then pressed a slick finger at Roy’s hole, not quite hard enough to go in. Teasing. 

Roy was too high on his own arousal to be really concerned at how teasing Kimblee was tonight, but he wasn’t so lost that he’d beg for it. Not yet. He knew that’s what Kimblee wanted, though. The other alchemist wanted him to whine and beg and push back against his fingers. Roy did shift where he stood, though. His shoulders ached, and so did his legs, and the sting in his back had faded to a dull ache as well. Roy didn’t see Kimblee for dull pain, and he was about to say something about that, when Kimblee finally did push his finger in.  
It was always uncomfortable at first, adjusting to Kimblee’s fingers inside him, and the knowledge that he was taking a lot longer than usual finally let unease settle in beside arousal. Kimblee’s fingers withdrew, and something else replaced them, pressing into him. It was hard and slick but most certainly not Kimblee’s cock. Kimblee moved it so slowly that Roy wanted to jerk his hips back, to let whatever it was push fully into him, but Kimblee had anticipated this. His free hand had a tight hold on Roy’s hip. 

Kimblee continued to slowly thrust whatever it was into him, when suddenly the brush of metal sent recognition sparking through Roy’s muddled brain. He was far less scared by the realization than he probably should have been.

“Is… is that the knife?” Roy asked, and Kimblee drove it in roughly, making Roy gasp.

“The handle, yes,” he purred. “I don’t think you’d enjoy the blade quite so much.”

That certainly would explain why he was taking it so slow. It couldn’t be easy to fuck Roy with the handle while holding the blade. 

Kimblee steadily began to increase the speed of the thrusts of the knife handle, pushing it in rougher and rougher until Roy wasn’t able to hold back his moans anymore. It was thin, and felt impersonal and threatening. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. He knew Kimblee was still holding back, still teasing. It was only a matter of what he was going to do next. 

Surely he’d get tired of teasing, of the knife, and fuck Roy properly. Would he free Roy, then? Let him lie down on the floor still warm from the day’s heat, or have him on the couch? Or perhaps leave him as he was, hold his hips still with a grip strong enough to leave bruises?

The thought of all those other scenarios only made the knife handle all the more disappointing, but also made what little it was all the better.

When Kimblee released Roy’s hip to reach around and stroke at Roy’s erection he could hardly believe it. 

Roy thrust into Kimblee’s hand, against his tattooed palm as Kimblee thrust the knife into him.

“Please… please…” Roy begged. He’d beg now, yes, he was so close…

“Please what?” Kimblee asked, and his hand stilled. Roy moaned in dismay. 

“I want… I want to come, please.”

Kimblee withdrew the handle of the knife, and Roy let his head fall heavy against his chest. Of course it was too good to be true.

And then it wasn’t the handle of the knife pressing back in, but Kimblee. Without the blade keeping the two of them separate, Kimblee pressed himself fully against Roy’s back once he’d hilted himself in Roy’s ass. When Kimblee pulled out and thrust back in again, the force of it moved the both of them.

“You’re not allowed to come until I do,” Kimblee whispered into Roy’s ear. 

“Y-yes, sir.” 

The words were a habit, and Kimblee snorted.

“None of that, Roy, if I’d wanted any ordinary soldier, I’d have one,” Kimblee said.

Roy didn’t trust himself with a response, but unintelligible words tumbled from his lips anyways. Pleas and noises of pleasure. Kimblee wrapped his arms tight around Roy’s waist, and sank his teeth into Roy’s shoulder. Roy pushed back to meet Kimblee’s thrusts, until Kimblee let go of the almost hug he had Roy in, and grabbed a hip to stop him, and pulled out.

Roy felt the warm splatter of come on his lower back, and heard Kimblee’s breathy gasp. 

“Please-” Roy began, but Kimblee cut him off by thrusting the hilt of the knife back inside him.

“Would this be enough for you?” he teased, running his free hand over the jut of Roy’s hip. 

Kimblee’s touch was just barely enough, but it pushed Roy over the edge of his climax anyways, legs finally giving out. 

 

When Roy finally seemed to return to his senses, Kimblee was pulling his coat back on, and he wore a very self-satisfied expression on his face.

“I think I’ll leave you like this. Major Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, all tied up and vulnerable,” Kimblee said, and smirked. “If it’s the Ishvalans that find you, then I have no doubt they’ll be glad to use the same knife I did. I’m sure they’ll use the pointy end on you, though.”

He shrugged, and walked towards the door.

“And if it’s the other soldiers, then I’m sure you’ll hear no end of it. Goodnight, Mustang.”

 

The knife lay at Roy’s feet, it’s blade shining in the moonlight that slipped through the cracks in the curtains. Roy shivered. Nights in the desert were cold. He cursed Kimblee silently, but at least he’d left Roy his gloves. If he was careful, he could burn through the rope binding his hands up. He’d just have to be careful not to burn his hands and gloves off in the process. Precision wasn’t his strong point with the flame alchemy. But it was risk burning himself or wait here until someone else found him, a thought that made Roy equal parts terrified and embarrassed. The Ishvalans wouldn’t ask questions, they’d slit his throat and leave his body to rot. If it was other soldiers… they’d want to know why he was here, and how he’d ended up like this. Questions Roy didn’t feel like answering.

So he took a deep breath, and snapped.

He could feel the heat of the flames as they burned through the rope and singed his gloves, and staggered, nearly stepping on the knife, as the rope no longer held him upright. Now it was just a matter of cleaning up, dressing, and making it back to camp without being seen.


End file.
